Ode to a tiny lady

Regular readers will know I’m not the type to gush or coo over my tiny lady. The reason is I feel that parents, mothers in particular, are expected to gush and coo a lot rather than speak out about the sometimes messy reality of life in the childhood trenches.

But today I want to gush and coo just a little. Just enough so my tiny lady knows what she really means to me.

Her birth gave me freedom though I didn’t know it at the time. Once I’d escaped the mire of new mum nerves and new mum stress I realised I had come through the whole experience with a new attitude to life. I had changed. I was no longer willing to put up with stagnent situations or keep silent when I needed to speak. It took some months for this new, stronger me to emerge. But, bit by bit, I did like a butterfly cautiously making its way out of the cocoon and realising he can fly. 

Her arrival has meant I have had to push myself and speak up and do
all sorts of things I wouldn’t have imagined doing before. Her very existence
has pushed away all the crap and insecurities, not completely of
course but she has made it to possible to try harder than I would have before. I want to make her proud of
me, I want her to think ‘Wow, my mum is awesome’.

She has made my life complete, to use a cliche and she has made me happier than I ever thought I could be, to use another. She has made me brave. She has made me strong. Without her I would not be writing this. I wouldn’t have taken the chance. I would have been too afraid to just stand out from the crowd.

This Easter in Ireland we celebrate those who fought for our freedom one hundred years ago but today I celebrate the tiny lady who gave me my freedom the moment she was born. 

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